Frankie
by seaecho
Summary: Micky introduces a new roommate "of sorts" who ends up changing their lives. This is a sequel to "When Love Comes Knocking At Your Door," so it might be beneficial to read it first. Slash warning, sexual situations, some language.
1. Chapter 1

After a deliciously slow, teasingly languid build-up, Davy was coming on hot and heavy. It felt so out-of-this-world good. They were on the bed, and had been for three quarters of an hour. Davy had learned a lot in the past 8 months. He'd learned to stretch the foreplay out-was still improving, and he knew just what catapulted Kerri to the heavens. Being as beautiful as he was, and now, also-most of the time, unrushed, as well as a highly skilled lover, no girl in the world would have been able to say no to him. Kerri certainly couldn't.

She squirmed under his light, tantalizing touch. She couldn't get enough of him and his kisses that varied between light and feathery, and deep, searching. Her body was screaming out for him-she couldn't hold him close enough.

Then, it hit her like a tank. _Damn! _ She'd forgotten to do the laundry! Also, the vacuuming. And just when she and Davy had been on the brink of a wonderful lovemaking session. The mood was killed now, although she hadn't uttered a word to Davy, who was still going full steam ahead in his seduction. He had no idea how tired she was of housework. It wouldn't be as bad if she wasn't always having to pick up after the guys.

Peter had a habit of forgetting his bowl of half eaten ice cream on the coffee table and never using coasters. Micky did the same with cereal bowls and beer cans. Davy left bread crumbs strewn about every time he made a sandwich, not to mention all the knives with mayonnaise smeared on them in the sink. Random socks could be found under the couch at any given time. And sometimes they were stinky. Mike was the only one who didn't make any _additional _messes for her to clean up, but he did sometimes forget to wipe his boots when coming in from outdoors, and if he happened to step in wet sand, or worse, dog poop, well...

She had to face it. Living with four guys was a real challenge. She'd been living with them for a year now, and lovers with both Davy and Peter for about 8 months. Davy and Peter made her days and nights magical with their sweetness and all the attention they heaped on her, the fantastic lovemaking. Nothing she'd experienced before in her life had touched her as deeply as Davy and Peter's combined love.

Davy and Peter were also in love with _each other_, so it was a very interesting set-up, and one that worked out very well the majority of the time. She loved them both to death, and was amazed that in the time they'd been a threesome, there had never a single issue with jealousy. So things on that front were ideal, but the fact remained that the amount of housework in addition to a full time job and cooking was just too much when living with four typical young, active, messy men. But she felt guilty-she didn't want to seem ungrateful.

Peter appeared in the doorway about then. He leaned against the frame in his sexy way and just watched them, a slight, sly smile turning up the corners of his sensual lips. He enjoyed it-the voyueristic side of his considerable libido coming to the fore. Peter never got enough, whether it was watching or participating. At first this had disturbed Kerri-embarrassed her. But she had slowly learned to love it herself-being watched. It was so...forbidden-and therefore explosively exciting. So she guessed _she _must have some exhibitionist tendencies. Only with Davy and Peter though. Those two sparked a flame in her that no other guy had come within miles of.

She and Davy were naked, and across the room Kerri saw Peter's enormous erection through the thin material of his pants. Sometimes it seemed as if Peter was _never_ soft. Peter was quite the sexual being. Seeing Peter watching them got her back in the mood.

Kerri liked to think of Davy as chocolate covered cherries. His eyes were the chocolate color, somewhere between the milk and dark variety, his sweetness the cherries underneath. He was always sweet and tangy-to look at as well as taste. Peter was her butterscotch. In the shade, his hair was close to butterscotch color, a bit lighter in the sun, and his passion was thick and just as sweet as Davy's, only flavored a bit differently. Their methods of seduction were different, and ever-changing, and this just made their three way relationship all the steamier.

Davy's tongue licked and teased her nipples, causing her to arch her back in a silent plea. Davy sucked her nipples then, taking his time and then his signature whimper escaped, meaning he was reaching his limit of patience. He sucked harder, urgently. He still struggled a bit with control. Kerri thought it endearing.

When Davy was at last inside her, he rocked his hips slowly. The heavy breathing came from everywhere-Davy, her, and most obviously, from the doorway. Peter was not shy about showing his arousal. He really liked what he was seeing. Peter was all sensuality. And not a bit embarrassed about it.

The housework woes were now all but forgotten, and Kerri gave herself up to Davy's thrusts. He tried to pace himself, but the impatience was getting to him, and he had to force himself to slow down less he burst prematurely.

When he finally could hold back no longer, Davy began to thrust hard and fast, and climaxed, resting his head on Kerri's shoulder as he did so, his eyes closed, floating in pleasure. A few more half-hearted thrusts here and there, and Davy went quiet.

Kerri looked up to see Peter now sitting on the edge of the bed she and Davy were on, his eyes bright with anticipation. Just as soon as Davy rolled off Kerri, Peter was between her legs, urging her knees up to her chest, spreading her wide, and lowering his head to eagerly use his tongue and lips. He loved the way Kerri felt to his mouth in this condition. She was very wet, open and swollen from Davy's lovemaking. Doing this, as he often did after Davy had come inside of her, was a double treat. Tasting Kerri, drenched with arousal from Davy's sweet lovemaking, and savoring Davy-all at the same time.

Peter's eagerness had not slowed one bit in the time they'd been a threesome. He went at her like a wild animal. He lapped her completely clean, then his attention went to her clit, and brought her easily to orgasm. _What an expert he'd become!_ Both guys were such ideal lovers now that she felt as if they'd been trained specially for her. Actually, _she _had trained them herself. She kidded them about it too. And they loved it.

She looked up after Peter elicited her second orgasm and Davy was stroking himself, still on the bed. The excitement of seeing Peter loving her with his mouth, and her mind shattering climaxes caused him to not be able to resist, and he came for the second time himself a minute or so later. Then he turned right around and eagerly brought Peter off with his mouth.

Some time later, Kerri decided to speak up. "I need to talk to you... You guys have made me so happy, and I don't ever want you to forget that. I was facing being homeless... and you invited me into your home with open arms. You two have made me happier than I ever dreamed I'd ever be, in addition to that. But..."

Peter and Davy patiently waited, alert, knowing she'd continue once she'd sufficiently collected her thoughts.

"Sometimes I'm overwhelmed with my job, the housework and cooking." She watched them, waiting for a reaction. "And you guys don't help much. In fact, you make things _worse _because I often have to clean up after you. Honestly... sometimes I wish we could afford a housekeeper."

Immediate concern registered on both their faces. Their adoration for Kerri knew no limits, and there was nothing they wouldn't do for her. Most of all, they wanted her to be happy.

"We could check out the newspaper and see what the going rate is. How often would you need a housekeeper? Like, how many days a week?" asked Davy.

"Oh, I think it would cost too much, Davy. Even a few hours a week would be more than I could afford. Or any of us could afford."

In the following days, all four of the guys did everything they could to locate a reasonably priced housekeeper or agency that provided them, but Kerri only had so much saved, and if they did find a housekeeper, that would be used up in only a couple of months, and then they'd be in the same boat again. And as for the guys, their income was never static-gigs were irregular, and usually they had enough to cover the rent, but with not a whole lot left over.

"Hey, guys. I just thought of something," Micky said one night, his eyes unusually bright. "I have a friend who tinkers around with electronics on the side. Cliff-you guys know him. He's been doing it for years. He loves it. The guy's brilliant. I keep telling him he needs to invent something he would make a fortune on. I know he's capable of it-I've seen some of the rockets and stuff he's built. I wonder if he might have any ideas." Micky was clearly very proud of his clever notion.

"Mick, no offense, but what exactly are you talking about? I'm not aware of any machine that's capable of doing housework!" Mike exclaimed. "That's a dead end, Shotgun."

"Well, let me at least talk to him... No harm in that."

"In any case, even if he _could _make something, can you imagine how much that would cost?" Kerri looked depressed again, after perking up when Micky had mentioned Cliff's talents.

Next thing Kerri knew, Micky had his friend on the phone, explaining the situation to him. Surprisingly, Cliff was intrigued with the idea. He agreed to come over the following evening to talk to the five of them. Kerri was embarrassed, as she only had $1,000 saved, and that was only because the boys wouldn't allow her to help toward the rent. She'd kept it for a rainy day-a.k.a. a lack of gigs. $1,000 wouldn't buy a housecleaning machine, even if one existed-so her attitude wasn't exactly positive. But just the same, she was determined to be open minded.

When Cliff arrived, Kerri remembered him vaguely from the couple of times she'd met him briefly when he'd visited Micky or he'd come to pick Micky up to go out club hopping. He was a likeable fellow. He was tall and big with red hair, probably in his early 30s. He had an easy going manner, but seemed a bit gruff until you got to know him and realized that was just his personality. He tended to be blunt and to the point. He didn't banter much. He and Micky were so unalike. Micky was a chatterbox, and Cliff only spoke when necessary. Kerri wondered how they had enough in common to be the good friends they were.

"I've been thinking ever since Micky called, and I could make some kind of machine that would clean floors and vacuum, but I'm afraid that's about it. It would be a kind of disk that goes over the floor."

"Well, that's better than nothing. But it sure would be nice if it could also dust and do laundry!" said Kerri jokingly.

Cliff didn't scoff or snicker like she had half expected him to. In fact, he looked very introspective, and Micky smiled at Kerri in an encouraging way. He knew his friend well, and he suspected Cliff had ideas flowing steadily through his mind. He could tell simply by the look on Cliff's face.

Kerri more or less forgot about the whole housecleaning machine deal in the next few days, as she was busy doing exactly what she always did- working, and then trying to think of what to fix for dinner for four guys with huge appetites, changing bed sheets, washing fingerprints off walls, mopping floors, and enjoying Davy and Peter's loving at night. Unless she was just too tired, and then she drifted gently off to sleep, half listening to Davy and Peter making love after the lights went out. It had the same effect on her as a lullabye.

Cliff came over unexpectedly one day; looking inspired, a gleam in his eye, and you could almost see the wheels turning in his brain- he was markedly more animated than the last time he'd been there, several days before. He insisted they all sit down and listen to what he had to say. Kerri tried to will her eagerness away, but she couldn't seem to slow her pounding heart. Oh, the anticipation!

The five of them sat as Cliff, in his slow, methodical, thorough way, explained that he thought a robot would be a much more feasible answer to their housecleaning dilemma, rather than a disk. It would be able to accomplish a lot more. It was apparent that, even though Cliff was naturally a reserved person, he was feeling in his element about his project. Kerri sensed he was trying to suppress his excitement about this endeavor.

"A robot! Oh Cliff..." said Kerri. "I'm sure Micky told you I only have $1,000 saved, and that's not going to buy _any _robot!"

"Wait a minute, hold up there, girl," said Cliff. "I've been thinking a lot on this, and if I could experiment with something for you, and have any kind of success, it might be worthwhile for both of us. What I mean to say is, if it works out, I could end up making, patenting and selling them, and if that were the case, your thousand dollars would cover materials for your machine, and I could go on from there. We'd both benefit. If your machine doesn't work out, I'd just make you something simple that I could make for a thousand, and forget about pursuing it. But... I have a feeling I could make something that might be able to do more than just vacuuming and mopping the floor. But I'm warning you... it won't be an easy road. We'll have to do many, many tweaks and readjustments before we have something that will do even the most basic things. There _will _be a lot of screw-ups along the way, make no mistake."

Kerri thought she was going to blast off with the excitement that was building steadily inside her. She tried to calm herself down, but the idea, that she had been so sure was way out of reach, was now starting to sound like a possibility. Remote, maybe, but a possibility nonetheless.

"Tell me more about it. Do you have any idea what it would look like?"

"The robot? Well, that's really the least of our concerns for now, but I was thinking of building one four feet tall, then realized it would have to be at least five feet tall in order to be able to dust most surfaces, and do dishes. Mind you... this would take tons of experimentation, and like I said, loads of mistakes in the process, but it just _might _be possible. It would be made of a combination of metal and plastic. I'd have to ask you about the design-but that's on the back burner for right now. The main thing at the moment is figuring out the mechanics of getting it to perform tasks correctly, and program it so it will follow your commands. And that's a great simplification, to say the least."

"Cliff, I think this might be too much for you. It involves so much of your time, and I know you work. And that's not even considering all the torture your brain is going to endure, trying to get things to all fit together," said Kerri.

"Oh, I work, yeah, but my weekends are mostly free. And this kind of thing isn't like work to me... its more a passion, or fun, if that's how you want to put it. A hobby. And this is the best hobby I've ever embarked on yet. Gotta admit I'm looking forward to getting started on it."

His eyes still glittered, which bolstered Kerri's hope. "You have to understand-this is a huge challenge for me, but I thrive on that. To be honest, if Micky hadn't approached me with this idea, and I'd thought of it myself, I would have done it anyway. In a second."

Cliff had refused to accept any money until the robot was completed, and when they hadn't heard from him in two weeks, Kerri began to wonder if he'd decided not to take on the project after all.

She trusted Micky, and he vowed that Cliff was as reliable as they come. So she waited patiently. Micky assured her they would be hearing from Cliff any time now. And on the following Saturday night, he called and asked for Kerri.

"I've got the 'guts' taken care of, as far as a machine that will mop the floor, vacuum, do the dishes and dust. The computer part, though-the robot's 'brain,' so to speak, is going to be by far the biggest obstacle. I can't really tell you how successful this project is going to be. If you pre-sort the laundry, it'll load it in the washer, and put the clothes in the dryer. You'd have to fold them, though."

Kerri was beside herself. "Really? I can't believe it!"

Cliff's voice took on a somber tone. "I like told you, I can't I promise anything. It might turn out to be a complete flop. I'm going to try to program the computer in the bot to respond to commands. Specific commands. But the main reason I called tonight is to find out what you want it to look like. The head, arms, hands, legs and feet."

Kerri was taken aback. She had no idea how to answer those questions, as she hadn't anticipated them. Not yet. She had thought it would have taken Cliff longer than this to figure out how to program the robot to do all those chores. Like he'd said before, the appearance of the robot was way down on the priority list. It must be closer to completion than she'd thought.

Cliff said he'd come over with several drawings for her to choose from as to the robot's features. He said that was much more feasible than deciding on the phone, as this way she could actually see it, with her own eyes, what she would be getting, and avoid possibly being disappointed when it was completed.

Heck, she didn't care _what_ it looked like, as long as it could do the things Cliff claimed it would.

In the end, she chose a face that looked somewhat human, but not too much, because they all agreed that would be creepy. It looked like a hybrid between a robot and a human. A plastic face with eyes, nose and mouth. Other components might consist of metal, titanium and granite, said Cliff. The arms would be the approximate length as a human's arms, and the fingers would be claw-like projections that could grasp somewhat, although not anywhere near as precisely as human fingers. Cliff explained that robot fingers were extremely difficult to design with accuracy partially because of the joints. The legs would be approximately the same length as a human that was 5 feet tall, and the feet would be flat and large. They wouldn't have to worry about rough terrain, as the robot would always be indoors, Cliff said, but he would still have to install gyroscopes to keep it from tipping over in certain situations. The stairs were the biggest concern for Cliff, and he still wasn't sure how he was going to equip the robot to climb them.

"In any case, even with gyroscopes, it won't be climbing any trees or doing any rock climbing," Cliff said soberly. Kerri felt like laughing. As if she'd want it to do those things!

But the biggest problem of all was memory. A robot, Cliff explained, can do certain tasks, but it has no memory of how to perform that task again in the future. In other words, it doesn't learn as a human would. So, say you asked it to get you a soft drink. Sounds simple, but the end result would have to be broken down into steps. Walking to the refrigerator, opening the door, reaching in for the soft drink, closing the door, and then handing the can to a person would be a complicated series of tasks. A robot would probably never be able to do it on its own. Unless you instructed it on what to do each step of the way-_and_ it was programmed for these tasks. Best to keep it simple, said Cliff. Have specific chores for the robot and don't expect too much, because that would only breed disappointment.

Cliff asked Kerri to write a list of commands for the robot so he could program it. If it were within the robot's capabilities, Cliff could try to cover all the bases. If they wanted to add more commands later, which Cliff was certain they would, he'd take the robot back and upgrade it as many times as was necessary.

Well, _any_ help at this point would be more than welcome, thought Kerri. Something that could share the housework load, even in the smallest way, would mean more time to spend enjoying Davy and Peter. She loved the talking, joking, laughing, cuddling and making love. Her time with them was precious to her.

They didn't know it yet, but they were in for the experience of a lifetime. The following days, weeks and months would affect all five of them profoundly. They had no way of knowing just how much this robot would touch their lives.


	2. Chapter 2

Kerri looked thoughtfully at the robot standing across the room. What an odd machine it was. It had been two weeks since Cliff had brought it over and presented it to her one night. It had been a planned surprise, and all the guys had been in on it. Every one of them had had their eyes glued to her face as Cliff had stepped aside to allow the robot to walk into the room at his direction. It was completely unexpected.

"Ta-da!" they'd all chorused.

Kerri had slapped her hand over her mouth and squealed with delight, hopping up and down. Peter and Davy had smiled at each other, deriving much pleasure from her reaction. The robot had waddled in and stopped in the middle of the room, awaiting more orders from Cliff (or at least that's how it appeared).

As Cliff was explaining the "scientific stuff," as Kerri referred to it, she phased out the voices, engrossed with studying the robot. It didn't look either male or female-maybe something in between. Androgynous, if a robot _could _be androgynous. Most of its body was plastic or something similar- whatever the material was that Cliff had decided on using and she'd forgotten the name of. Kerri hadn't paid much attention when he'd explained how he'd built it either, as she found it insipid. Boring, even. She knew she should try to learn all she could about it, and had tried to look interested at first, but it was much too technical for her. So instead she had examined the robot from head to toe.

What she _was_ interested in was how this thing was going to react to her commands. From offhandedly catching bits and pieces of the guys' conversation, Kerri gathered the robot was pretty raw. It would only perform certain housecleaning tasks, and nothing else. But it was, after all, just what she had asked for. It had several dozen commands programmed into its "brain" and all you had to do was tell it to do something, and it would obey.

The first thing she had noticed were the eyes. They were sky blue. Cliff had made a good choice there. It was indeed 5 feet tall-a few inches shorter than she and Davy. It looked surprisingly human, but not scarily so.

The joints on the arms, legs, hips and neck were aluminum, or titanium, or something like that. Cliff was busy discussing the mechanics with the guys right now, but she wanted to try to conjure up some intelligent sounding questions concerning the robot so Cliff and the guys wouldn't think her a total imbecile. But she couldn't think of one single intellectual query.

Cliff, while having a beer with Micky and he others, had had her give it a few commands while he was still there, to be certain it would respond to her voice. Kerri was fascinated with how it sprung into action, somewhat clumsily shuffling its way to the vacuum cleaner, waiting for Kerri to plug it in and turn it on, then pushing it around slowly and thoroughly. Then she observed it as she gave it a cloth saturated with furniture polish and it went over each piece of furniture with extra care.

The guys handed over the cash to Cliff. They'd each had a few hundred extra lying around, in case of an emergency, and they refused to let Kerri contribute. That had been another enormous surprise for her. They insisted it was the least they could do, considering all she did for them.

Cliff had handed Kerri a list of the robot's commands before he left. Kerri hugged him, embarrassing him considerably. Then she'd also hugged each of the guys, and a few tears had escaped too.

The robot, since then, had been a blessing. It mopped the floors, dusted and vacuumed and put the clothes in the washer and dryer when asked, just as Cliff had hoped it would. But... Kerri, for some reason, felt a bit melancholy as she sat on the couch today, two weeks later. She had a vague nagging feeling. Something felt incomplete. Then it dawned on her. The robot had no personality. _That's silly! _ she told herself. _Its not supposed to have a personality. Its just a machine built to follow commands-nothing more..._

But somehow, after only two weeks, she felt an attachment to it, even though she knew it wasn't a human, or even an animal. She had asked Cliff if she could name it, and he had laughed a bit hollowly. "Sure, its yours-you can do whatever you want with it," and shrugged it off. She suspected he secretly thought she was a little "off."

After that, Kerri had spent hours and days, off and on, trying to think of a name that fit the machine. It had a bald head, of course, and Kerri joked about giving it a mop of hair to match the guys. She decided it looked more male than female. So it would have to have a male name.

"Chester? Howard? Jackson? Jeff? Maurice?" Kerri eventually went through all the letters of the alphabet, trying to find a name. She complained to the guys that it _needed _a name, and she would not be happy until it had one. Davy, Peter and Micky made suggestions, but she wasn't happy with any of them. Everything sounded either too silly or too serious.

"How about William?" said Davy.

"Too formal. I want something light, friendly."

"Then Willie," Davy regretted it the moment he said it, as Peter looked at him slyly, nudged him with an elbow and giggled. Davy rolled his eyes.

"Robot," said Mike unenthusiastically. "Why can't you just call it robot?"

"Come on, Mike. Help us out." Kerri was getting frustrated.

"Franklin?" suggested Micky. "Oh yeah," he said a minute later. "Too formal."

"Frank then, call it Frank," was Mike's response._ Frank. _Kerri tried the name out, repeating it several times. It was _almost_ right, but not quite. She went silent for a few seconds.

"That's it!" Kerri cried suddenly, causing them all to jump. "Frankie! It looks exactly like a Frankie!" So Frankie it was.

"Come here" was one of the commands the robot recognized on the piece of paper Cliff had given Kerri. From that day on, Kerri always said, "Frankie, come here," and he had always responded. The extra word added to the command didn't seem to affect him.

Frankie was more limber than she'd expected, bending and reaching when doing tasks. He even squatted when it was required, and could twist his torso to a certain degree. His hands and fingers, as Cliff had explained, weren't as flexible as a human's fingers, but what he couldn't do, Kerri would step in and finish the job. On the whole though, he was saving her a lot of time. Easily several hours a week.

Sometimes she got the almost uncontrollable urge to thank Frankie for all his efforts, or to catch his eye and smile at him in appreciation, then felt like a fool, realizing she'd just be thanking a hunk of whatever he was made out of.

Cliff had solved the problem of the stairs. Frankie would step up each one, precisely placing his feet on each stair so as not to get off balance. Only drawback was you had to say, "Step," each time you wanted him to step up. On the way down the stairs, you had to say, "Down" for each step as well.

"I think I'll give Cliff a call tonight," said Kerri as the boys walked in from practice, tired and hungry. She'd been pondering it all day. "I want to see if he can give Frankie a personality," she said casually, as she took the lasagne out of the oven. Then she waited for a response.

_"What?"_ All four guys said in unison.

"It won't hurt to ask. I just want to find out if its possible."

Mike looked completely dumbfounded. "Why in the world would you want it, er... _him_ to have a personality?" (Kerri had insisted from the moment Frankie had a name that he no longer be referred to as an "it").

Kerri strugged to find the words to express herself. She'd gotten a considerable raise at work, and at the guys' insistence, had cut back her hours to part time, so she was home alone a fair deal of the time until they got back from practice in the evening. She was still bringing in almost as much money, and now had more time to herself. Only working barely 18 hours a week, most of her time was spent with Frankie during the day.

She had often wished she could strike up a conversation with him, or at the very least, get some kind of reaction from him. But how to convey that to Mike? Mike, the pragmatic one. He wouldn't understand something so... frivolous. That was how he would probably put it-frivolous, trifling. And totally unnecessary.

"I'd like him to be more of a companion." That was as close as she could get to explaining it to Mike.

The only time Frankie ever talked was to express an inability to do something that was asked of him. If he was not programmed to do what was asked, Cliff had configured him to simply say, "No." But Kerri figured that if he were able to say that one word, he could be programmed to say others. Maybe even carry on a uncomplicated conversation. That would be out of sight!

"That's ridiculous," said Mike, his voice a bit harsher than Kerri had expected. "He's not a _human, _he's a _robot_. Don't ever forget that. Cliff isn't a miracle worker. You wanted an assistant housekeeper. You got one. Maybe not perfect, but he's helping out a lot, according to you. Now you want him to have a personality?" Mike was almost beside himself, but also realized he was being a bit too strong, and walked over to Kerri, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

"You can call Cliff, sure," he said softly. "But please don't get overboard about this. Cliff has already amazed me with what he's done with... Frankie." Mike still struggled with calling a machine by a human name. "So you have to appreciate what you have."

Of course Mike was right-Kerri fully realized it. But she was still going to call Cliff...

When she got Cliff on the phone, the guys gathered around, drawn to finding out what Cliff's comeback would be to such an aberrant request. As predicted, there was a prolonged pause at the other end of the line. It was so prolonged, in fact, that Kerri wasn't sure if Cliff hadn't laid the phone down in a state of shock, or hung up on her. When he did speak, it was haltingly.

"Um... is this in jest?" he asked.

"No, Cliff. You see..." and she tried explaining how she felt about not being able to communicate with Frankie. She knew it sounded absurd, but she forged ahead anyway.

"But... this was supposed to be a housecleaning robot. Maybe I missed something."

Kerri explained how much she appreciated what Cliff had done, and how amazingly well Frankie was working out, and that it was just a thought...

"Can you bring the robot over this weekend? I could tinker around and see if I can get anywhere. But I'm telling you... I don't think there's any possibility of it developing any kind of a 'personality,' as you put it." Cliff didn't mince words. Kerri was grateful for his honesty, as she didn't want to harbor any false hopes.

Even so, Kerri was ecstatic. Absolutely flying high. Cliff had at least agreed to give it a shot!

When Cliff delivered Frankie back to his Beechwood Drive home a week later, Kerri noticed a very slight change almost immediately. Cliff had tried to explain to the guys what he'd done, but it even went over _their _heads. He also left with a warning that Frankie could be a bit unpredictible now. He might show very little change, or he might begin to refuse commands, or do something that he hadn't been ordered to do. Cliff reminded them that he had no idea what he was doing, and that he was not responsible if Frankie became uncontrollable or even volatile. That got their attention, and they all looked at each other uneasily.

"You still want to do this?" Peter asked Kerri, his arm slipping affectionately around her waist.

"Well, we're all bigger than him, and as long as he doesn't have a weapon, I think we could handle him until we could get ahold of Cliff."

"But what if he gets aggressive when no one but Kerri's home?" asked Micky, to no one in particular.

"I'll give you my work number. You already have my home number. But I did do something you should remember-I installed an on/off switch on the robot. If it gets aggressive, just turn the switch to off. Cliff showed them all where the switch was-on top of Frankie's head. Kerri wondered how easily she'd be able to get to it if Frankie were actively trying to attack her.

"If it doesn't show aggressive tendencies within a few days, I doubt it ever will." Cliff's statement helped to allay everyone's nervousness a bit. "I really don't think there will be a problem-just informing you of the possibilities."

The changes Kerri noticed were subtle at first. Frankie seemed to be more alert than he'd been before, and more than a robot _should_ be, Mike had said, looking a bit troubled. Frankie stayed in Kerri, Davy and Peter's room at night, and he seemed to be watching them getting ready for bed, as well as dressing in the morning. Kerri had taken to changing in the bathroom. Those eyes... Micky said he could swear Frankie watched his every move when he ate his cereal in the morning when they were all downstairs.

Micky had even jokingly asked Frankie if he wanted some cereal of his own, and Micky swore the robot leaned forward the slightest bit, looked more closely at the cereal and sneered.

_So... its not all in my head,_ thought Kerri. _The others are seeing it too. _At night, right before bed, Kerri had taken to flipping the "off" switch in case Frankie decided to do something out of the ordinary, considering he was now "unpredictible," according to Cliff. Better to be safe than sorry, she reasoned. He had not shown the slightest aggressive behavior, so it looked as if they were out of the woods on that count. She always flipped his "on" switch in the morning before they all went downstairs.

It wasn't long before Davy suggested delicately that they keep Frankie turned "off" at certain times and Peter, being the more outspoken, finished that thought by suggesting they put Frankie in the closet when any of them made love, even though he was turned off. None of them were comfortable with those sky blue robot eyes on them when they were being intimate.

After the increase in awareness in general, other features started to surface. Frankie began to exhibit ever more interest in his human roommates. Peter, being the most fun loving member of the group, would always ask Frankie to sit down, "take a load off your feet," since Frankie always stood, as being a robot, he didn't have a need to sit and rest. Peter always indicated the couch next to him whenever he said it.

One night, Peter repeated it as he had so many times before, and Frankie hesitated, then confidentally walked over to Peter and sat down on the couch next to him! If they hadn't all witnessed it, no one would have believed anyone else about it actually happening. They all froze in shock, staring at Frankie.

"Oh my god!" is all Micky could manage to muster as he stood there stupefied.

"He understood you!" Kerri said in a stunned whisper.

"Either I'm crackers or Frankie is," said Davy.

Mike bent over at the waist to rest his hands on his knees, truly astonished and suddenly light headed. His down-to-earth, practical personality couldn't take this. Common sense told him it wasn't possible. Yet, he'd seen it with his own eyes.

"Well, I guess he's developing a personality," said Peter sanguinely, smiling arrestingly, not the slightest perturbed. Yep, leave it to Peter to be utterly accepting and nonchalant about the matter. The days to come would prove Peter to be highly accurate.

One night about a week later they were all in the living room watching TV. Frankie was walking around, "doing his evening walkabout," as Micky called it. He would randomly wander, and everyone was used to the slight creeking noises that accompanied it by now. It was easily blocked out when you heard it so frequently.

Now a running joke and nightly habit, Peter said, "Come here and sit down, Frankie." His request was followed by a soft noise that none of them recognized. All eyes turned in Frankie's direction. No one said a word, and Kerri carefully turned down the sound on the television. Silence...they were all on the edge of their seats, waiting to see if the sound would repeat. It had _almost_ sounded like a voice. Tinny and a bit raspy, and very spooky sounding if the truth be told.

They were rewarded a moment later when the sound came again. This time it was clearly identified as words, and what's more, they were recognizable. "Wanna walk, don't wanna sit."

This time, Mike flew up from his seat on the couch, his pragmatic mind just not capable of processing what had just happened.

"Shit! I'm gettin' the hell outta here!" Mike could no longer keep his composure. He was seriously spooked, and so were the rest of them. But unlike Mike, the others were frozen, paralyzed with fright. Mike took flight out the front door without even a glance backward.

Davy and Peter sat stiffly, staring unwaveringly at Frankie, and Kerri nearly peed her pants. Micky was off the couch in a flash and edging slowly toward the stairs, walking backward, his eyes never leaving Frankie.

"What the _fuck... _was that? Davy looked like a ghost, all the color having drained from his face. "Sorry for the language, Kerri," he apologized immediately, his wary eyes leaping back to Frankie.

"Hey, he's just getting a personality! Doesn't that include speaking?" Again, Peter took it more or less in stride. Being uncomplicated, it made perfect sense to him. "Looks like Cliff did a better job than you guys expected!"

Kerri still couldn't find her voice. When she had finally been able to manage to dial Cliff's number, Davy had to talk to him, as she still couldn't speak.

"Cliff, you aren't gonna believe this... but Frankie... just talked! And not just a word... a whole sentence!"

Davy listened to Cliff for a few minutes, then hung up on the phone.

"Well? What did he say?" asked Peter impatiently. Micky was apparentlly hiding out upstairs.

"He said that he didn't tell us that he tinkered around with giving the robot more power to speak because he didn't want to... get Kerri's hopes up. And he was almost as shocked as we are... that he talked. And especially a whole sentence. He told me... to warn everyone that he has no idea where this could lead to."


	3. Chapter 3

The next few weeks held surprises almost on a daily basis. You never knew what to expect at the Pad. Kerri was "happier than a gopher in soft dirt," as Mike would put it. She had a great life, with two fantastic lovers and a robot companion who actually talked to her and kept her company as well as helped with housework!

As Frankie revealed more and more of his "personality," he also became more complex. At first he made only a random comment here and there, but as time went on, he became much more expressive, and began the slow but sure process of endearing himself to the entire household. Everyone, including Cliff, was astonished. Cliff offered to take Frankie back and reset him back to his original state, but everyone was enjoying his antics so much that it was unanimous that he stay the way he was. Come what may...

Almost immediately after Frankie started to talk and develop his personality, he also started to develop quicks, and to become attached to Kerri- more so than any of of the others. She supposed it was because she spent the most time with him and issued most of his commands.

Frankie's face also began to show expression. At first it was spooky, then comical. His eyes had always moved slightly, but now they would crinkle up slightly, or open a bit wider, and Kerri got the feeling he was trying to imitate his roommate's expressions. Sometimes his mouth would open, even if he weren't talking, as if to indicate surprise. Steadily, his expressions became more and more human-like.

But Frankie also had a "thing" for Davy that had Davy a bit disconcerted. He would stare longer at Davy than at anyone else, and even follow him around at times. He would peer solemnly at Davy in the mirror as Davy primped or brushed his teeth. It were almost as if he were admiring the little Englishman.

"Why does he have this obsession with me?" Davy asked as he walked up to Mike one day, Frankie trailing closely behind like a moving blotch of shade.

"Now... don't tell me it surprises you. He may only be a robot, but hell, it seems even a _robot _isn't immune to your charms." Mike offered a playful smile. Davy had to smile back.

Frankie was also very fond of Peter, and at first Kerri chalked it up to Peter being very playful with, and attentive to Frankie. Peter would wrestle around with Frankie on the floor, ask him if he wanted a beer, attempt to tickle him-everything Peter's vast imagination could come up with. At first Frankie had seemed confused by Peter's antics, but it didn't take him long to realize what fun was, and Peter defined it. And now Frankie really seemed to enjoy the interaction. Kerri started to see other reasons why Frankie would like Peter so much. Peter seemed to understand him better than any of the others-herself included. The bond they were creating was solid and touching.

Mike didn't pay much attention to Frankie, and Micky was always on the go, and too busy to spend a lot of time with him. So Frankie's affections were mainly with Kerri, Davy and Peter.

Mike and Micky had lost their fear of Frankie. As he talked more and more often, they grew used to his strange, raspy voice. Kerri had never really been afraid of him, just uneasy when he'd begun to talk. And fearless Peter thought of Frankie as a great playmate and friend. As for Davy, he wasn't sure _how _he felt about the robot. Sometimes he felt creeped out and other times he felt that Frankie was fitting quite well into their lives.

However, when it came to the quirks, it was another story. Sometimes Kerri didn't know when to be exasperated or to laugh. Frankie did, indeed, sometimes ignore commands, as Cliff had warned them might occur. As his vocabulary expanded, so did his confidence. Kerri could have sworn Frankie sometimes deliberately ignored her when he wanted to do something else.

He began to look through drawers, cupboards and closets, curious as to what they contained. He especially liked digging through Kerri's purse. But as far as anyone could see, there wasn't a devious or vindictive element in him. They didn't actually have to teach him a vocabulary-he picked it up naturally from his roommates, and much quicker than a child learning to talk would. After a while, they would begin to wonder if his intelligence might eventually exceed theirs, and they had no idea what that might bring. As Cliff had warned them, there was no way of knowing where this would lead.

But as far as Peter and Kerri in particular were concerned, it was a never ending stream of good times, and never a dull moment. It was also almost like having a cheerful two year old in the house, commented Mike, without the messes and diapers.

Another issue that soon came up was the matter of flipping Frankie's "off" switch. He began to show resentment about it when turned back on. He'd pout for a while, sticking his lip out Peter-style. Kerri really couldn't blame him, as she wouldn't want to be missing out on things either. So they kept him turned to "on" as much as possible, which was all day and usually right up until bedtime.

When Frankie uttered their names for the first time, it was a highly emotional time for Kerri and Peter. The first time he used Kerri's name, about three weeks into the developing of his personality, Kerri was upstairs and Frankie was downstairs. He didn't know where she was and she heard a frantic, "Kerri!" float up the stairs in that tinny, eerie little voice. She almost jumped for joy. She ran downstairs, hugging and praising him. Frankie looked confused, as if he wondered what all the fuss was about.

One night Peter was going up the stairs to get a blanket and Frankie wanted to go along. So Peter was giving him the familiar and tiring, command of "step" all the way up the stairs. When they reached the top, Peter went into the bedroom for the blanket, and right afterward, a loud series of thumps were heard on the stairs.

Everyone downstairs ran to the bottom of the stairs. There laid Frankie, seemingly a bit stunned.

"Oh Frankie! Are you alright?" cried Kerri, her voice tinged with real worry. "I'm a robot-no hurt," was Frankie's answer. Asking if he were alright had been automatic, and Kerri felt really obtuse about it afterward, but the relief was greater.

"Peter!" wailed Frankie. It was drawn out and pitiful sounding. Everyone stared at everyone else in shock. Peter appeared at the top of the stairs. Frankie didn't say anything more, just gazed up at Peter forlornly. It crossed Kerri's mind that Frankie had a pleading look. They later concluded Frankie must have just wanted to be sure Peter knew he had fallen. It seemed Frankie wanted Peter's sympathy. He got it too, as Peter slid down the bannister to be more quickly at Frankie's side.

"You okay, Frankie?" Peter asked, kneeling beside him. Frankie nodded his head and reached his hand out to Peter. Peter looked up at the others in wonder, and pulled Frankie by his claw-like hand, gently hoisting him to his feet. The fact that Frankie hadn't reached out to anyone else to help him up told Kerri that Frankie must look up to Peter. She already knew he had a great deal of trust in him. Peter had a way of making one feel warm and safe.

"That robot... um... Frankie, was clearly manipulating Peter to get his empathy!" exclaimed Mike when he was out of Frankie's earshot. "How is that possible?" No one had an answer. Everyone was amazed at how highly functioning Frankie's "brain" was becoming.

Peter disappeared into the bedroom alone a little later, and Kerri sought him out, finding him sitting on the bed, tears trailing down his cheeks and his eyes bright with still unshed ones.

"Oh, Peter... what's wrong?" she held him gently,

"Frankie used my name for the first time today, and called for me when he fell. I should have been watching him. I feel guilty."

"Peter, Frankie's been up and down those stairs how many times now? At least twice a day for the entire time he's been with us, and this is the first time he fell. It wasn't your fault. He didn't even get injured... um... I mean, damaged."

"He's my little buddy," Peter said, looking into Kerri's eyes in a way that nearly tore her heart out.

One night, as they all sat on the couch in front of the TV, and Peter, Davy and Kerri huddled under a blanket, Frankie sat down with them, between Kerri and Peter.

"What you call it?" asked Frankie.

"What do I call what?" asked Kerri absently.

"What we do?"

"He means what are we doing right now," said Peter, who always seemed to be the best at figuring out what Frankie was trying to say.

"Um...we're getting cozy," explained Kerri.

"Getting cozy," said Frankie as he pushed ever closer to Kerri. Kerri thought about his plastic being hard and cold, next to everyone else's warm softness. She was going to have to remedy that.

Kerri knit Frankie a simple shirt and pants. They were purple and psychedelic which Frankie had indicated he wanted when Kerri had shown him colors and patterns. Now he could cuddle with them on the couch without chilling anyone. They were all blown away when Frankie also asked for a wool hat like Mike's. So Kerri went to a department store, head measurement in hand, and got Frankie a size small wool hat. And of course, it was purple. Mike was clearly pleased, although he tried hard not to show it, and would never admit it aloud. From that day on, Frankie was rarely without his hat.

Then there was the time Frankie decided he was going to slide down the bannister like Micky, Davy and Peter did. He fell again, and this time it was a little more serious.

As they all stood over him, Frankie began to make a strange sound, and it didn't take long to realize he was trying to cry, as he'd heard Peter do on occasion.

"Oh great! Now he's gonna be all sensitive and emotional like Peter!" Micky slapped his hand to his forehead.

Frankie had to go back to Cliff for repairs, as he was off balance from one of the gyroscopes shifting when he'd fallen. He had some scratches in his plastic body too, but no one cared much about that-it gave him character.

They missed him greatly the two days he was gone, a lot more than they'd realized they would, and wondered what Frankie would have to say about it. "All better!" cried Frankie as he walked into the Pad with Cliff. Apparently he hadn't minded his short visit with Cliff.

The day Frankie decided to call Mike and Micky by name was the day he finally won their hearts. Kerri, Peter and Davy were planning to spend quality time together that night, and could hardly wait until it got dark. They were so wrapped up in talking and flirting amongst themselves that they didn't notice Micky and Mike weren't in the Pad.

"Where'd everybody go?" Kerri asked, looking around.

"Micky and Michael went to store," said Frankie. Kerri, Peter and Davy collectively gasped. It had finally happened. At last, Frankie called everyone by name! Kerri noticed Frankie had said Michael instead of Mike. Did that indicate increasing intelligence? The only one who regularly called him Michael was Peter. The rest of them called him Mike most of the time. So there was another indication of Frankie's attachment to Peter-the fact that Frankie emulated him. But Frankie still clearly admired Davy the most. It was true-and amazing. Even a robot could appreciate Davy's good looks. Frankie's expression sometimes reminded Kerri of the teenage girls who would gawk at Davy. Davy was clearly his "role model."

A few minutes later Kerri was upstairs changing bedsheets (something Frankie just wasn't graceful and limber enough to do with much success) when she heard the familiar creeking of titanium metal joints that meant Frankie was coming up the stairs. A minute later he appeared in the doorway. He just stood there looking at her. "Peter and Davy getting cozy in the living room," he said casually.

Uh-oh. Kerri fought down a severe case of the giggles. The two guys apparently were taking advantage of the other two guys' absence. Kerri was afraid Mike and Micky would come home and catch them. Even though they knew what was going on, they still would not appreciate seeing it. She ran to the landing, ran halfway down the spiral, and saw them on the living room floor, kissing passionately. She felt desire knife through her at the sight. But she pushed it aside for the moment.

"You guys! Micky and Mike could walk through that door any minute!" she admonished. They cast her a guilty look and got up. "I bet he told on us," Davy poked Peter and indicated Frankie.

"He sure did!"

"Wonderful. Being caught by a robot!" Peter and Davy couldn't quite wipe the smiles off their faces. Frankie seemed to have a self-satisfied look on his face. Or was that just their imagination?

When the other two came home, Frankie shuffled over to them as quickly as he could-which wasn't very fast, and announced, "Micky and Michael, welcome home." Everyone dissolved into helpless laughter and numbing astonishment, and Micky and Mike looked very flattered as well. Mike had given up on trying to figure all this out. He liked an ordered life where things made sense and were explainable. Frankie didn't fit into that niche at all. It made his head hurt.

It wasn't until later that night that it dawned on Kerri that Frankie had climbed the stairs all by himself to "tell" on Peter and Davy. No one had had to direct him to take steps! From then on, it was one less thing to worry about. No more dropping everything to help Frankie up or down the stairs.

That night was eagerly being looked forward to by Kerri, Davy and Peter. So they all agreed Frankie would have to be turned "off." Kerri felt guilty doing it, and Frankie, for the first time, physically rebelled by trying to dodge and go around her. But he was no match for Davy's fleet feet. Davy cut him off and flipped the switch abruptly, then pushed Frankie into the closet, shutting the door and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Come 'ere," he crooned to Kerri and Peter, beckoning them to his bed. Since Frankie had been around, they hadn't been making love nearly every night as they used to. It had been four days, and all three of them were about to jump out of their skins, so great was their need. But now that they had the option of turning Frankie off... things could return to normal.

Kerri kissed each in turn, pushing them down onto their backs, savoring them, not allowing anyone to rush. Then Davy and Peter began to kiss each other, and things got hot fast. When everyone was undressed, the moans bounced and rebounded off the walls as Kerri laid down on her side and went down on Peter, and he, in turn, scooted down lower on the bed and went down on Davy. The soft sucking sounds fueled the want in all of them, and brought out the beast in Peter.

Kerri felt the tension in Peter, knowing he would erupt soon. She stopped sucking and licked Peter's shaft for a while, blowing cool air on it, exploring the slit with her tongue, causing him to thrust against her, and make desperate noises that, of course, vibrated on Davy's cock, which his mouth was stuffed with, exciting Davy further than he thought possible. When Kerri started to suck again, Peter grunted and thrashed, sucking much more vigorously on Davy, and they continued like this for a short while, the ardent heat flowing back and forth until, with a great groan, Peter came, his orgasm triggering Davy's seconds later.

They heard a slight noise from the closet, then the closet door slowly opened. "Getting cozy," said Frankie, standing in the closet entry watching them. They all looked up at him in horror, and Davy realized that, in his rush to be alone with Kerri and Peter, he must not have flipped the switch off all the way.

Laughing so hard he could hardly walk (besides, what else could he do but laugh in this situation?) Davy made sure Frankie's button was all the way on "off" this time, and returned to the bed, still bent over at the waist, unable to straighten up, in all consuming laughter. Soon they were all laughing hysterically.

Peter made love to Kerri then, as Davy watched. Peter was always able to make love several times before he was satiated, and it was a good thing he had both Kerri and Davy, because neither one of them could have kept him satisfied by themselves. Peter had a huge cock, and it filled Kerri so completely that sometimes she felt she was stuffed to the gills with it. Its glorious width stretched her inside in a very pleasant way. His thrusts became harder and demanding, and he sucked her nipples passionately as he neared climax.

Davy reached under Peter and massaged Kerri's clit so she could also climax, which she did, almost at the same moment as Peter. All the sensations-Peter inside her, his mouth pulling on her nipples, and Davy's fingers bringing her to the brink and over the edge-there were no words to do it justice.

They didn't tell anyone about Frankie. They didn't even mention a housecleaning machine for fear someone would want to come over and see him. If anyone were due to visit, they turned Frankie to "off" and put him upstairs in the closet. No one discussed _why_ they hid him from the public, although Kerri was pretty sure they all just wanted to keep Frankie for themselves. She was fine with that. Also, she didn't want to take a chance that someone might steal Cliff's idea before he had a chance to build more robots. Apparently, he was working on robot innards every weekend, and designing each to do different things. Kerri was happy for Cliff and his invention, and hoped his hard work paid off in a big way someday soon.

By far the biggest concern of Kerri's was that someone would see Frankie and then try to steal him. So on all fronts, they agreed that Frankie should be kept their secret indefinately, or for as long as they could manage it. Frankie seemed as content as a robot could be. He was perfectly happy with his little world, which consisted of the Pad and his five people.

After a particularly exhausting day of housework, Kerri sat down. "Man, I'm tired." She'd had to climb on a foot stool to dust up high, as Frankie couldn't be trusted not to fall. And Frankie was too clumsy to do some things, so she still had her share of the load.

"Sit down, Frankie. You must be tired," she said, without even thinking.

"I told you!" Frankie said with an impatient, slightly irritable tone to his raspy voice. "I'm a robot. I don't get tired."

Kerri smiled, she couldn't help it. "I know, Frankie. I keep forgetting."

She also kept forgetting he didn't need to sleep in a bed at night, or eat, or drink, or go to the bathroom. So in reality, he was kind of like a pet, but without all the inconveniences.

The day Frankie learned to laugh was a real turning point. That was when they all knew for sure that Frankie experienced emotions. He had to-he had both cried and laughed. He was turning into much, much more than even Cliff had ever imagined. The Monkees and Kerri had gained much more than an assistant housekeeper. They'd gained a friend.

"Shit!" Kerri's head jerked up. Had she heard that right?

"_What_ did you just say?" she asked Frankie, who was strolling around the bedroom as she read a book on the bed.

"Shit!" repeated Frankie.

"Where did you hear that word?"

"David." Of course, all the guys cussed, but Davy was especially proficient when alone with the guys. So Kerri didn't doubt Frankie's statement for a nano second that Davy had been the culprit.

"David!" she confronted him as Davy turned the corner and slipped soundlessly into the bedroom. He was like a panther in that way. Prowling around steathily and sneaking up on you when you least expected it. She knew why he'd hunted her down in the bedroom-his eyes carried that sensual gleam.

"Wha'?" said Davy, still ignorant to Frankie giving him away.

"Frankie just used the word 'shit' and when I asked, he said he heard it from you! David, you can't be talking that way around him!"

Kerri had yet to succeed at resisting her own giggles when Davy started. He had the cutest, most irresistible giggle on the planet. Soon Davy collapsed to his knees, helplessly yielding to the laughter.

Frankie began to make a most alarming sound, but as Kerri listened, it began to sound a little too similar to Davy's giggle, differing only in that it had a tinny robot twang to it.

"David! You can't... you can't... talk like that... use words like that..." Kerri finally gave up trying to scold Davy and melted with laughter that racked her entire body.

When Peter entered the room and surveyed the scene, all three of them laughing so hard that Davy and Kerri could hardly catch their breaths, he was finally able to get the story out of Kerri after much prodding and patience, waiting for the laughing to abate.

When he finally understood, he said, "Well, Kerri. One good thing about this is... Frankie could have repeated something _worse _that comes out of David's mouth a lot. Something like... well, you know... MF."


	4. Chapter 4

**My special thanks to Apache Tom Cat for helping me with British lingo and expressions. I would have been lost without his generous help.**

One morning Micky was making toast as he was getting ready to run out the door, being late for practice. The others were waiting impatiently in the Monkeemobile.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Frankie, keenly watching the piece of bread as it disappeared into the toaster.

"Making toast."

"Can I make toast?" asked Frankie.

"What do you wanna make toast for? You don't eat," said Micky.

Frankie seemed satisfied with that answer, and Micky ran out the door.

Later on that morning, Kerri was watering her houseplants when she smelled something burning. She ran for the kitchen to find Frankie standing next to the toaster, a smug look on his face.

She'd thought robots weren't supposed to have expressions, but Frankie seemed to have all kinds of them. He'd shown disgust, excitement, sadness, irritation, and now, complacency. Smoke was pouring from the toaster, and Kerri hurridedly unplugged it, waited for it to cool down, then shook it into the sink. A half burned up washcloth fell out.

"Frankie! Did you put this in the toaster?" she asked.

Frankie nodded.

"Why?"

"Making toast," said Frankie with a self-satisfied expression. Kerri could not seem to get it across to him that you can only make toast with _bread._ This really worried her when she thought of the various appliances he could get into trouble with.

After that, they all made sure Frankie was turned off if they were all going to be gone for any reason. They'd been a little lax before, but now it was a necessity. He needed at least one person home to supervise him if his switch was turned on.

Davy had Peter cornered in the bedroom. Peter had just finished arranging his new bedspread on his bed. He'd had to throw his old one away as it was starting to pill badly and get tattered on the edges. He had smoothed his new one carefully and now he stood back to admire it. It boasted large swirls of lime green, electric blue, red and yellow. It almost hurt your eyes to look at it.

"Ah, a psychedelic bedspread," crooned Davy, his voice leaving no secret that he was on a path of seduction. _He doesn't need to do that_, thought Peter. Davy's appearance alone was enough to turn Peter inside out. He constantly had to resist Davy. The seductive tone to his voice was just overkill to an already tortured Peter.

Davy had nailed Peter up against the wall by the headboard. This face was buried in Peter's neck, doing all kinds of delicious things like kissing, licking and sucking. Peter could feel himself begin to tremble. He was convinced he was physically melting.

"Where were you when I first brought it up here?" asked Peter a bit sullenly, trying hard to hide his desire. "I wanted you to watch me put it on the bed."

"I nipped to the loo," was Davy's response.

"What?"

"I went to the bathroom." It was still automatic for Davy to use English expressions, and although he half heartedly tried to "Americanize" himself, he still slipped often. Kerri thought the British expressions were charming and adorable. In fact, it turned her on. So Davy took special care to use as much British dialect as possible in her presence. This spilled over, and he found himself not putting much effort into changing.

"Peter...my psychedelic tsunami," Davy now had Peter on top of the new bedspread, and was on top of _him_ before Peter could even comment.

"Tsunami?" asked Peter from underneath Davy.

"Yeah, you sweep me off my feet, hurl me about without direction..." Davy's lips were on his neck, and Peter felt instantly drugged. "You drown me in huge waves of desire." Davy was hard at it, and wondered if he might be going a bit overboard on the persuasion attempt.

He was. Little did he know that he didn't even need to utter a word. Peter couldn't remember a single time when his appetite for Davy ever faltered. Peter began tugging at Davy's clothes, hungry for the spicy little Brit. He cupped Davy's hard-on through his pants, squeezing gently and wrenching a strangled cry of need from Davy.

They undressed each other. The others were on the beach, and Kerri was grocery shopping. Frankie was turned off. There was nothing standing in their way. They were burning up for each other.

They each knew what they wanted, nothing verbal had to pass between them. They rolled onto their sides and went into the 69 position-their favorite. They loved to tease each other. They had a little ritual. At first they pleasured each other at the same time. A little later, when they were both close to orgasm, one would stop altogether and allow the other to tease. Then, when climax for that person was near at hand, they would switch, and the other one would be teased almost to orgasm. This would go on until they were both right on the edge, and could wait no longer, and then they would eagerly go at each other simultaneously, usually coming very close to the same time. It was a treat they both craved, and always left them breathless and completely satisfied.

It was Peter's turn to pleasure Davy, who was building toward orgasm with amazing speed. This was something Peter looked forward to with outright lust. The kind of lust he could just barely keep in check.

He worked his magic on Davy's prick. His tongue was constantly in motion. Whether he licked, nipped and teased at the head, or bobbed up and down with his tongue swirling, or making a tight seal with his lips, his tongue was always busy stroking without ceasing, and it all drove Davy wild. Davy savored the intense throbbing, causing him to arch into Peter's mouth. Davy's balls were drawing up tight, and he warned Peter that he was very close.

Peter stopped, and Davy began his own brand of tantalizing. He teased the tip of Peter's cock, the same as Peter had done to him. He used long, flat strokes of his tongue all up and down the shaft, moaning almost as much as Peter was. Then Davy dropped straight down, taking as much of Peter in his mouth as he could. He wasn't up to deep throating-had never been completely successful at it, and that was probably because of Peter's great size and girth. But he had the majority swallowed. Then he began pistoning up and down, remembering to keep his tongue in motion, as Peter had done.

Peter warned him, and they started all over. Peter on Davy, then Davy on Peter. Their mutual explosion was close at hand.

Kerri walked in quietly, but she needn't have worried. They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't even know she was there. Desire clawed at her as she sat on the other bed and watched their passion combust, heard their cries, watched as they slowly came back down, caressing each other the entire way, their breathing gradually becoming quiet and subdued.

A few days later, the inevitable happened. Kerri knew it was coming, as did every one of the Monkees, but no one had talked about it, in fact it had barely been mentioned. Frankie was staring out the big window, watching the guys play with a Frisbee on the sand, and occasionally cooling off by dunking themselves in the ocean via running and diving into a wave.

"Wanna play," said Frankie. The sound was so lonely and pensive.

Kerri sighed, having known this time would be coming.

"Oh Frankie…. I know you do. But it's not safe for you to go outside."

"Why?" There was the "why" that reminded Kerri of most four year old children. They were always full of "whys," as was Frankie.

"Someone might want you for their own, and we want to keep you," she said after mulling it over for a few seconds. She didn't want to alarm Frankie, but she also wanted him to be aware that they weren't purposely denying him the outside world. But at the same time, she also knew that sooner or later they would have to yield. He loved the boys, and wanted to be out there with them, sharing their fun like they did indoors. Of course he would want that. Frankie was an individual now—not just a machine. He had feelings, emotions, and he wanted to be included.

"Don't do that," said Davy when Peter poked him in the ribs. "Not ticklish tonight." They had just finished dinner, and Peter was in a playful mood (which was more often the case than not).

"Well, Frankie's ticklish, aren't ya?" Peter went to tickle Frankie. Frankie gave Peter a wide-eyed look and said, "Don't do that." Of course, all of them cracked up.

From that day forward, Frankie used the "don't do that" expression almost as often as the guys did.

Little by little they started allowing Frankie outside. He had to have one person holding each hand on the the sand though, or he tipped over. As Cliff had warned them, he couldn't handle rough terrain. And that included sand. The first time Frankie stepped on it he had a look of astonishment on his face that warmed Kerri's heart. The sand gave way beneath his big, flat, clumsy feet, and this was a completely new sensation for him.

They had to keep people at bay, for everyone was curious. Kerri had made Frankie promise he'd never talk when outside the Pad. Interesting fact that she _knew _he'd honor it. Just how she knew…well, it must have been intuition. She also knew that Frankie was very like Peter in that way. Playful, sensitive, but never hurtful. And dependable. True to his word. She wondered if Frankie had somehow patterned himself after Peter. She couldn't think about it too long though because it was so perplexing that a robot could even _have _a personality, or feelings, or morals. But Frankie seemed to.

She didn't want people overly interested in him. They told curious onlookers that he was merely their housecleaning robot. People must have wondered about their sanity-who takes a housecleaning robot onto the beach? But Mike's solemn, no nonsense attitude intimidated people about approaching them, and that was what he was aiming for. They wanted people to have the impression that they'd better not even _think_ of messing with Frankie or trying to steal him. And Mike's presence accomplished that. One steely glare from Mike was all it took.

They had rain sometime later. It was already almost summer, so this was unusual for Southern California. Frankie was overcome with jubilance when he saw the sparkling drops of wet wonder. And of course, he wanted to experience it, having never seen it before. Peter offered to take him outside to see it, and Kerri was glad to let Peter take over, and got caught up in her book.

She must have lost track of the time. She looked up later to a cheery Frankie standing over her, covered in mud from head to toe. Even his wool hat had mud splatters. She gasped and jumped up from the couch. "Frankie! What have you been doing?" It should have been obvious, but the words had just burst forth.

"Making mud," said Frankie. He said it so matter-of-factly.

Kerri _knew_ she shouldn't laugh, she _knew _it. But this was just so typical of something Frankie and Peter would do together that she couldn't stop herself.

Frankie led her to Peter, who was squatting beside a huge puddle, making mud pies.

"So, you're teaching Frankie to 'make mud'?" she asked. "Do you realize he's covered in it?"

"Wow, he's worse than I thought," said Peter, not looking the least bit remorseful.

"I made him some mud pies."

"I see that."

At that moment Frankie stepped too close to the edge of the pavement, teetered and fell, landing smack in the middle of the puddle and coating himself even more thoroughly. Peter began laughing in his deep, hearty, honest way that Kerri found so alluring.

Frankie reached out and grabbed Peter by the belt and, surprisingly strong for his size, yanked Peter right into the puddle with him. Peter only laughed harder, floundered about, splashing mud everywhere, getting it in his beautiful hair, then reached out for Kerri's hand.

"Come to Tork," he hollared in his temporarily manic silliness. Kerri just naturally offered her hand to Peter without thinking about consequences. He hauled her right down into the puddle with himself and Frankie.

"Oh my god, Peter!" she cried out as Peter wrestled her. "We're going to get mud all over the house!"

"So what? No worries! We have a housecleaning robot to clean up the mess!"

Kerri couldn't really argue with that reasoning. And how often did she get a chance to wrestle with Peter in a mud puddle anyway? Suddenly, she found herself saturated in mud and incredibly horny for Peter.


	5. Chapter 5

"Peter, you naughty, naughty boy!"

Peter had quite an impressive hard-on. He knew Kerri was the romantic type, and liked the subtle approach most of the time. Nothing obvious, like being overly aggressive or flaunting a boner. But this had just "sprung up," and there was nothing he could do about it.

Even after all this time, the sight of an erect Peter still took Kerri's breath away. They had finally stepped out of the shower, after scrubbing Frankie and themselves clean of the mud. It had taken nearly an hour. Some of the mud had partially dried, and getting it all out of Frankie's "joints" was the hardest part. Their hair was the next most difficult part. They'd kept their hands off each other, but not without considerable willpower. Kerri's gaze kept returning to a certain area of Peter's body.

"I'm sorry, can't help it," said Peter. "It just...happens."

Peter was giving Kerri his shy, yet cryptically wicked smile as they toweled themselves dry. She knew all too well what that smile meant. She also saw how he was trying to achieve a balance of being his usual sweet, unassuming self, while still allowing a bit of flirting behavior to escape. He was trying to tone it down, but she knew where his mind was at. To top that, he let loose of a low, evil laugh. _He had no idea what it did to her._

It was still raining outside, and Peter had turned Frankie to "off." Frankie could clean up the mess they'd made downstairs tomorrow. Frankie was "naked," as Kerri had placed his clothes in the sink in warm, sudsy water, planning to wash them later, along with his wool hat. Frankie was self conscious now about being naked, so that was all the more reason to turn his switch to off. They both knew Frankie would be testy when he was turned back on, but that was the last thing on Kerri's mind at the moment.

The reason for that, of course, was that Kerri couldn't wait to get Peter into bed. She was in a rare mood, not needing much wooing today. The mud puddle must have done it_. Wow, I must be kinky! _she thought to herself with a grin. Of course, it hadn't been the mud puddle _itself_, but the fact that she'd been in it with _Peter._

"I need to knit Frankie a second set of clothes so he never has to go around naked when they're being washed," Kerri said absently, but her mind wasn't on knitting. Without her permission, her eyes scanned Peter from his face down to his nicely sculpted thighs, lingering in the area of his lightly muscled biceps, furred chest, and his crotch along the way. She didn't realize how obvious she was being until Peter hugged her to him.

"So I take it that you like what you see?" he asked gently into her damp hair.

Kerri smiled and blushed. "That goes without saying. How can you look like such a sweet, innocent angel, and yet be such a devil in disguise?"

"To trick you into my bed, my dear," Peter said teasingly as he led her to the bed, smiling to soften his words a bit. Kerri gasped slightly, reminding Peter once again that, even though she was involved in a three way romance with two smoking hot guys, she also hung onto certain old fashioned ways.

Once they were prone on the bed, he said, "Kerri, I hope you aren't upset with me for... tugging you into the mud puddle. I really didn't mean to... pull you all the way in. I just wanted to scare you by drawing you to the edge. I didn't plan it the way it happened."

"I thought you did it on purpose!"

Peter shook his head. " I think you know me better than that."

Yeah, she had to admit he was right. Unlike a lot of other rowdy guys, Peter just wasn't the type to get carried away enough to be mean to a girl.

Acting as if he hadn't had any loving in ages, Peter had a fervent edge to him today. Truth was, Peter was _always _ready for loving, and he wasn't particularly good at hiding his feelings. Davy was out playing playing pool at a local bar with Micky and Mike. Kerri had wondered why Peter hadn't seemed interested in going, and now she knew why.

Peter kissed Kerri with the type of deep passion he seemed to have a never ending supply of. He was behaving urgently, barely leashed, and Kerri relaxed, despite her own urgency, and allowed him to do as he pleased. He licked his way from her neck down to her collarbone. Then he nuzzled the front of her nightgown, moving slowly to give her an opportnity to let him know if she was receptive. _Boy, was she receptive!_

His tongue snaked out to lick, then suck her nipples through the thin nightgown, his hungry mouth pulling avidly at them. She felt the fire all the way down to her crotch, the desire for more intimacy zipping down her backbone. She clutched the back of his head, whimpering. Peter was a natural lover. Even though he hadn't had a whole lot of experience with women prior to Kerri, he now knew instinctively what to do most of the time. He knew Kerri well enough to almost always be right on target. And if he didn't know, he made certain he found out. He loved to please her.

Sensing their matching need, Peter took her nightgown off and trailed his fingers down her front. She willingly spread her legs for him. He was correct in his assessment, for he found how wet and slippery she was- already fully prepared for him. He grinned, proud he had such an effect on her. He inserted one, then two fingers and thrust them in and out gently, at the same time doing something similar with his tongue in her mouth. His escalating need was palpable. In fact, he was now _straining_ at the end of his leash.

"Want me to fuck you?" he said softly into her ear. The only time Peter and Davy used such language with her was in intense sexual circumstances such as this. Peter knew just what turned her on, what to say, and when to say it. It had taken much practice and experimentation. The majority of the time he met his mark. She gasped, as she always did when either of them talked erotically to her.

"Yes, Peter..." she breathed, her chest heaving, hardly able to form words, or even thoughts. The whole world consisted only of Peter and herself right then.

"Put your legs over my shoulders," he said, his voice husky, and when she did, he caressed the insides of her thighs for what seemed an eternity with his fingers before easing himself into her slowly, knowing his size would hurt her if he wasn't careful. It took a good three or four minutes, as she was tight, but he was finally all the way in, and Kerri was moving enticingly underneath him. He gasped, and began thrusting lightly at first, then more aggressively. In the end, the two of them clung to each other, thrusting hard and fast. Kerri begged him to thrust harder. She bit lightly at his neck.

_She was surely in a rare mood._ He responded more than eagerly. Kerri had never seen Peter this needy before. She cried out for more until Peter moved faster and harder still, then he, a beautiful picture of sweaty, sexy man over her, his hair hanging down into his eyes, reached his summit.

She watched the expression on his face turn to what looked like torment, but was really bliss. The same kind of look he sometimes adopted when really concentrating on his singing. The sweat rolled off him and onto her, and he began whispering words to her again that melded erotic and endearing together as he exploded. The dusky light coming in from the window as daylight slowly disappeared, framed Peter's flawless face as he hit wave after wave of orgasm.

_Good Lord, he was so perfect. _

Cliff came over about twice a week to visit and see how Frankie was doing.

"I just don't understand it," he said as Frankie walked up to him to greet him by name. "I've built several others, and tweaked them the same way I tweaked yours, but so far not one of them shows any potential for language or...human characteristics like yours does. You could probably get a fortune for your bot. But it's yours-you've paid for it. So you can do with it what you want. But if it were me, I'd sell it. I don't think there's another like it. I wouldn't be surprised if you got a million for it."

Every one of the Monkees' eyes bulged, and so did Kerri's. "I'm doing really well with the ones I have, so I can't complain. I can sell each one for at least a thousand, and if I put more features on them, a few thousand, but for some reason, yours turned out special. Progressive. I don't know how it happened."

"A mil? Man, that's a lotta money!" Micky looked at Kerri, and she wasn't sure she liked the look at all. Mike saw Kerri's expression of horror and jumped in to reassure her. He spoke quickly, with no hesitation.

"Don't worry, Kerri. No one's gonna take Frankie away from you," he said in his soft voice that could be so soothing. Kerri felt instant, immense relief. She'd been afraid Mike would side with Micky, and they'd beg her to sell him. Although they did okay, could always use money-no one could argue with that. Gigs weren't always ideally close enough together, and a million was an awful lot of money-especially in the 60s. She knew, of course, that Peter would never agree to selling Frankie, and she was almost as sure about Davy. Even though Davy sometimes called Frankie a pain in the arse, he was also very fond of him, and Frankie gave Davy plenty of the adoration he craved. He still stared at him in the mirror and tried to mimic his facial expressions. It could have been her imagination, but Kerri was almost certain that she heard a bit of a British accent in Frankie's voice at times. British expressions too. A couple of times he'd attempted Mike's slow Texas drawl, and that had brought gales of laughter from them all. Micky had laughed so hard that he'd actually fallen to the floor, hands clutching his stomach.

"Of course we wouldn't try to convince you to sell Frankie, Kerri," Micky chimed in. He meant it too. The sound of all that money had been very tempting, but Micky, like all of them, couldn't help feeling very attached to Frankie-couldn't imagine his absence.

Cliff couldn't understand how much a part of the family Frankie was at 1334 Beechwood Drive, but then, he hadn't spent much time with Frankie. Kerri was convinced that if he had, Cliff would understand that no amount of money could buy Frankie.

Frankie was very observant, and when Kerri, Peter or Davy kissed each other he showed interest. He was curious, as he was about most things. He had asked questions.

"What you call it?"

"Smooches," said Kerri.

One night in the living room Frankie asked Kerri for a smooch. She kissed his shiny plastic cheek. Then Frankie went over to Peter. Peter, being-well, laid back, mellow Peter, didn't mind a bit. He acknowledged and casually delivered Frankie's request for a kiss without a second thought. Of course, the next one Frankie approached was Davy. Davy wasn't keen about kissing a robot.

"Smooch?" asked Frankie.

"Don't wanna," Davy said, not taking his eyes off the TV. Frankie didn't try with Mike and Micky. He was closest to Kerri, Peter and Davy, and actually seemed a bit hurt when Davy refused him. A little later Kerri was upstairs reading when Davy came up the stairs.

She'd heard some serious noise downstairs, like a herd of elephants stampeding. She'd also heard Frankie's joints squeaking a lot, but she didn't think much of it, assuming Frankie and Peter were wrestling. Then she heard footsteps sprinting up the stairs. That would be Davy... no one else could run as fast as he could.

"Frankie's after me," said Davy, standing in the doorway, a very odd look on his face that Kerri couldn't read.

"After you? In what way?"

"He's trying to kiss me, and he chased me all over the living room and kitchen."

"David, he can't go any faster than your slowest walk. There's no way he could catch you," Kerri smiled, trying hard not to break into a giggle.

"I know that, but I have to keep my guard up... if I let it down, he catches up to me. Kinda like... the tortoise and the hare."

Now Kerri couldn't help but laugh.

"Its not funny-he won't leave me alone!" Davy's dark eyes were serious.

"David... " Kerri cupped his cheek in her hand. "Just do what Peter does. Just kiss him and he'll leave you alone."

"I don't _wanna _kiss a robot! But I _do_ wanna kiss you." Davy leaned in for a kiss. Kerri felt a rush of sultry desire.

Just then they heard the squeaking getting louder, followed by a steady, dull clunking on the stairs. "Oh no... he's coming up here after me." Davy tried to hide behind the bed on his hands and knees. Frankie wouldn't be fooled though. Kerri watched as he pursued Davy all over the bedroom. First to one bed then to the other, and back again. Frankie was relentless. Even though he could in no way keep up with Davy, he never gave up. She saw grim determination in his light blue eyes. And robots don't get tired.

Kerri was practically in hysterics by the time Peter came up the stairs.

"What's going on, guys?"

"Frankie wants to kiss David," said Kerri.

Peter shrugged. "What's the big deal? Just kiss him and he'll stop," said Peter as he flopped down on his bed.

"That's what I tried to tell him," Kerri marveled over the expression on Davy's face. He looked baffled, torn. He was truly befuddled by something other than human trying to kiss him.

"If he was a girl robot, you wouldn't mind him kissing him," commented Peter. "But then," he continued, "I'm a guy, and you kiss me." Peter's brow furrowed as if he were mulling it over.

"You're the only guy I want though," Davy leaned over and kissed Peter suggestively on the lips. Davy was sure making the rounds, thought Kerri. Everyone but Frankie was getting exactly what Frankie wanted. She almost felt sorry for him.

Davy assumed a casual stance, pretended to be listening to Kerri and Peter talk, then silently slipped from the room and back downstairs, hoping Frankie was sufficiently distracted enough to stay upstairs. But only about 30 seconds elapsed before Frankie waddled out of the room, heading steadfastly for the stairs.

Kerri, true to her word, knitted Frankie a second outfit. At Frankie's request, it was chartreuse with white stripes. He had rather outlandish taste, but then, it was the hippie era and she supposed he was wanting to be in fashion. She also knitted him some "shoes" for his enormous feet so he would feel more like one of them. They were huge, and looked like sandals. Perfect for the beach. When she presented them to him, he glowed, as much as was possible for a robot. His cheeks actually seemed to grow a bit pink.

"That's bloomin' groovy!" he chortled as he took his new clothes from Kerri, and this time it was Davy who got a serious case of uncontrollable giggles.

Not being able to reach things was a job best left to Mike, the tallest of them. When they got home from practice one night, Kerri met Mike at the door, asking him to please retrieve Frankie's wool hat, which had landed at the back of the highest shelf of the bookcase when Frankie had playfully thrown it into the air. Both she and Frankie had tried to reach it with the help of the footstool, but both were a bit afraid of heights and falling.

"Frankie," said Mike. "You aren't supposed to be afraid of heights. And you'd only have to lean a little to reach it."

"He tried, but it was about an inch out of his reach," explained Kerri. "He was afraid he'd fall if he leaned any more, and so was I."

"Its because I'm short, you know," said Frankie. Once again, Frankie had the entire household in stitches.

"Wanna go to a gig," this was something they'd all knew was coming too. Kerri thought about it, and realized she wouldn't mind taking Frankie along, except that she was a little nervous that Frankie might "steal the show," so to speak. She was afraid people would be more interested in him than in watching the Monkees sing.

Frankie had stayed true to his word, and had not spoken a single word in public. The only place they'd taken him so far was onto the beach. If he needed to communicate something, he would whisper-something Micky had taught him. He wanted nothing to do with the ocean itself-the waves seemed to spook him. He was perfectly happy to walk up and down on the wet sand, which was easier for him to handle, as it was firmer, but he carefully stayed out of reach of the sea water lapping up on the land. He tried to catch and throw the Frisbee, but his clawed hands were usually too clumsy to allow him to throw accurately or catch any but the easiest of throws.

The five of them debated about taking Frankie to a gig. He could possibly be instrumental in bringing more people into the club, but it could also take attention away from the band, as Kerri had already thought about. Frankie had been attempting to learn how to dance from watching Davy. It was hilarious to watch him struggle to move smoothly as Davy did, only to end up clunking around, clumsy as hell, not even aware of it, but extremely happy. Kerri could just see Frankie out on the club dance floor, people cheering him on. She didn't know if that would be good or bad for the band.

In the end, they decided to wait. They wanted to be recognized for their musical talent, not as "the band with a robot."

Frankie often tried to slack off on his housework, but Kerri made sure he understood that unless he did what he was supposed to do daily, there would be no rough housing with the guys or going out onto the beach. Sometimes she even had to threaten to switch him to "off." That always got results.

Frankie would listen to Peter and Mike play their guitars with wide-eyed, rapt attention. He would grab Davy's tambourine or maracas and imitate Davy's moves. But when he started drumming on everything, Kerri had to put her foot down. It got old, and grating on the nerves when he banged on pots and pans for all he was worth. You couldn't tire him out either. The only thing you could do was to turn him to "off," and he always pouted once turned back on, fearing he'd missed out on something.

Then one day when Kerri and Frankie were home alone, something traumatic happened-something Kerri would never forget.


	6. Chapter 6

Kerri and Frankie had been cleaning the bathroom. They were having trouble with some rust stains in the shower. They had tried several products, but none had come close to removing them. Finally, Kerri decided to try two products together. Two _had _to work better than one. Neither bleach nor the rust stain remover had worked alone. Maybe if she mixed them...

It was a bad idea. Kerri didn't realize how dangerous mixing products could be (especially when bleach was involved), and in a closed in space like a bathroom. Within minutes after mixing the bleach and the rust product and then starting to scrub at the stains, she felt a fierce headache coming on, followed by nausea and dizziness. At first she ignored it-it was almost lunch time and she figured it was caused by hunger. But then it got worse. And at that point it hurt to breathe...her lungs were on fire.

Frankie saw Kerri drop and splay out the shower floor from her hands and knees position. At first he thought her hands had slipped, but then he realized something was wrong-she wasn't moving. And she was making a funny wheezing sound too. He became alarmed when she didn't stir.

"Kerri?" he said. No answer. "Kerri, you okay?" Still no answer.

Frankie remembered what Kerri had taught him about the phone. If anything ever happened to one of them, that he should dial zero for the operator, and tell them the address. After touching Kerri with his clawed hand a few times and getting no response, he hurried as fast as his cumbersome robot body could carry him to the living room, lifting the cake dome off the phone and trying to dial zero. It took him several tries because the tip of his claw was almost too big to fit into the holes on the phone, but he finally managed to dial zero, although quite jerkily.

"Operator, what is your emergency?"

Frankie's raspy voice came over the line. "Kerri is sick. 1334 N. Beechwood Drive, Malibu, California," he said.

The operator thought the voice strange, but then, she'd heard plenty of strange sounding voices in her many years of working the switchboard. Nothing surprised her anymore.

"What is wrong with Kerri?" she asked.

"Don't know."

"Are you a family member or friend?"

Frankie thought for a moment. "Kinda both," he said.

"Is she conscious?"

Frankie wasn't sure what "conscious" meant, so he said, "She's on the floor of the shower, breathing funny."

That was enough for the operator to spring into action. She called the fire department and ambulance. "Someone will be there shortly. Make sure your door is not locked so they can get in."

Frankie hung up the phone, unlocked the front door and went back to Kerri. He rubbed her back with his clawed hands, worrying at his bottom lip as he'd seen Davy do, not knowing what else to do. He made eerie whimpering sounds.

Frankie had been relieved that help was coming, but that thought disappeared as soon as he saw the firemen and paramedics. They were scary looking, in matching clothes, towering over him, and they looked very intimidating. He'd had it drilled into him not to ever talk to strangers so he didn't say a word.

They stared at him, dumbfounded at first, then snapped out of it and into action and began looking for Kerri. Frankie wanted to lead them to her, but he was afraid they might hurt her. He wasn't at all sure if he'd done the right thing by dialing zero. He watched them quickly scour the house, and when they found her in the shower, he heard their voices mumbling, so he went to the partially open door and peered around it.

"There's the bleach bottle," said one of them. "And here's the rust cleaner," said another. "That's what the problem is, alright."

"She's coming to—that's good. Okay, dispatch," the paramedic was speaking into a disk of some kind. He said something about erratic respiration, and some numbers—something about blood pressure and pulse rate. Frankie understood none of it, and was afraid as ever. What if they hurt Kerri? What if they took her away?

His worst fear was realized when one of them said, "Okay, let's load her up." The gurney was wheeled in and Kerri was placed on it, now opening her eyes and struggling to breathe. Frankie flung himself as hard as he could against the men who were wheeling her out. They just pushed him backward and he could make no headway. He couldn't catch up to them on their way out the door.

He was shaking all over and stood in the middle of the living room, shifting from foot to foot, confused and terrified for Kerri. What should he do?

After they'd loaded her into the ambulance, Kerri looked around frantically. "Where's Frankie?" she cried, even though it was difficult to talk because she couldn't get her breath.

"Where's who?"

"Frankie! I won't go without Frankie! Please… get Frankie," she pleaded to the nearest paramedic.

"Who is Frankie?" he asked again.

"My robot! I won't go without him!"

"Oh no you don't. That thing rushed us."

"Tell him you're taking him to Kerri. He'll come with you then. And ask him to get my purse," Kerri felt a stab of pain every time she took a breath to talk. The paramedic placed an oxygen mask over her face, but she tore it away.

"I mean it, Frankie has to go with me!" They finally relented and the two of them went back in the house. Panic stricken, Frankie tried to get away, but they were far faster than he was. Both paramedics grabbed him. Now Frankie was convinced they were going to kill _both _himself and Kerri.

One said, "Where's Kerri's purse? You get it, and we'll take you to Kerri."

Frankie looked into the paramedic's eyes and saw compassion there. He blinked, and the paramedic smiled gently. Somehow he knew this guy could be trusted. So Frankie went to the end table and picked up Kerri's purse, handing it to him. The guy smiled wider, and led Frankie outside by his clawed hand and hefted him into the back of the ambulance. When Frankie saw Kerri, he shuffled to her as fast as he could. Kerri hugged him. "Its okay, Frankie. They're taking me to the hospital—they're going to help me." A single tear escaped one of Frankie's eyes, trickling down his cheek. Even in her pain, Kerri realized that, even though she'd seen him sob like he'd heard Peter do, this was the first time she'd seen him cry an actual tear.

The paramedics looked at each other in bewilderment. Kerri was obedient now, and put her oxygen mask back on, and Frankie held her hand all the way to the hospital.

In the ER, the doctors assessed Kerri as Frankie stood by. He stayed carefully out of their way, his anxious gaze never leaving Kerri's face.

"You'll be fine in a few hours," said someone after Kerri was hooked up to an IV and medication was given to her to ease her breathing. Kerri smiled, clearly relieved.

"We need contact information. Who do you want us to call?"

"David Jones, Peter Tork, Michael Nesmith and Micky Dolenz," she said.

"_FOUR_ guys?"

"They're all at the same place," explained Kerri. "They're a band, at practice. My roommates." She indicated her address book, and they located the number.

Within 15 minutes, all four Monkees were at her bedside. Peter and Davy were very pale and clammy looking. They also looked as if they might have shed a few tears on the way over.

"What happened?" they all asked at once.

"I mixed cleaners, and it was toxic. I must have passed out."

"How did an ambulance get to you if you were passed out?" asked Davy.

"Frankie—he's the hero. He called the operator."

All four of them turned to Frankie. Peter hugged him, and the rest high-fived him, slapping him on the back.

"Good goin,' Frankie!" cheered Davy. The doctors and emergency workers just stood around with slack jaws, staring in fascination. Frankie still had not said a word because other people were present. When they were asked about their robot, the guys were very evasive, stating nothing more than he was their housecleaning robot. No one volunteered any more information, so the hospital personnel finally gave up trying to get anything more out of them.

After they all got home, three hours later, the guys and Frankie fawned over her so much that Kerri finally made them all leave the bedroom so she could get some rest. It still hurt to breathe, but not nearly as bad with the pain pills they'd given her to take that night. After getting a lecture from one of the doctors, Kerri knew now to never mix cleaners. And now her bond with Frankie was cemented for good. He might very well have saved her life.

That night, as the guys watched TV and Frankie asked for a smooch from all four, not one of them refused. They were all feeling immense relief, Frankie seemingly most of all. Kerri was his world. He snuggled under a blanket with Kerri, Davy and Peter and laughed along with them at the sit com they were watching.

"You forgot to give _me_ a kiss, Frankie!" said Kerri.

He looked up at her adoringly, kissed her cheek and giggled with contentment. Kerri hoped she'd never have to face living without this robot_. _ Now that Frankie had entered their lives, she knew for sure things would never be the same again. He was so much a part of their world-their little _family. _

Davy and Peter were both extra "frisky" tonight, as Kerri called it. So was she. They were both flirting shamelessly with her and each other. Davy sensed Kerri needed an orgasm...or two or three. She always acted just a little different when she was craving something a little wild. They were _already_ unconventional, he reminded himself. She was kissing them both, one after the other, clutching at them, pulling them to her. She wasn't usually quite this aggressive. She was driving them mad.

"Wanna sit on my face?" Davy asked, looking so damn innocent in his boyish handsomeness that it was hard to digest what he'd just said. Kerri was so needy that she didn't even give herself time to be embarrassed at his request. Since they were all already naked, having just taken a shower together, he just guided her hips over his face. She gripped the headboard and slid down slowly onto to his waiting mouth.

As soon as his lips and tongue touched her, she reacted with a jerk. He was operating very smoothly and slowly, trying to take his time. Peter felt the vibrations, somehow knowing Davy would appreciate a bit of teasing, so he licked the head of Davy's erect cock, fleetingly. _Everyone _was going to be teased tonight.

Davy tensed and sucked at her more strongly when Peter started his touch and go method that always revved Davy's engine. Kerri knew what Peter was doing without even looking over her shoulder. She knew them both too well. It was going to be explosive-it was just a matter of time.

Davy's tongue and lips, so insistent and rhythmic. Darting here and there, flicking around, doing all the things that rocked her to the core. Davy's excitement fed on hers; hers on Davy's. Kerri knew how oral-oriented Peter was-he loved to give pleasure that way, as well as receive it. He must be making Davy feel the way he made her feel, which was out of this world.

That explained why Davy lasted no more than a few minutes. Loud grunts, groans and wild animal-like thrusts announced his orgasm. He continued to pleasure Kerri, and a couple of minutes later, she felt a second tongue lapping at her from behind, then delving in all the way. All the excitement in liquid form had gathered, and Peter relished it, rubbing his face in it.

Davy in front, Peter behind, and Kerri had no chance of lasting any longer. She had a record-breaking climax that shook the entire house. Then Davy and Peter proceeded to give her two more. Finally, she collapsed. But when she saw Peter sitting there, greatly engorged and slowly stroking himself, she found the energy to beckon him over. She situated him on his knees, on the bed next to her head so she could kiss, lick and suck at him until he also let loose with a series of feral cries.

Downstairs Micky and Mike looked sideways at each other uneasily. The sounds were turning them both on. Mike thought he was going to lose his head; all the fantasies that were rushing through it... and Micky was so horny that the thought of jumping Mike even entered his head.

"Man, in a minute, I might start humping the bed!" said Micky.

"I know, some of the sounds that come out of that room...I can't stand it. Let's go find some girls."

Mike and Micky shed their pajamas, threw on some clothes and headed for the nearest club.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter grabbed a shopping cart, easily yanking it free of the others, and Kerri admired his strength as she held Frankie's claw, staying right on Peter's heels. Peter sure came in handy. All of the guys did.

But she wasn't at all sure they should be doing this. "I don't know if this was such a good idea," Kerri was thinking out loud. She had a bad feeling.

"Why not? He's been bugging us almost non-stop about going to a gig. This oughta be fun for him!" was Peter's bright response.

Kerri wasn't convinced. She should have brought another Monkee-paired with Frankie, Peter was a bad choice. Peter and Frankie tended to be too much alike, and that could lead to trouble. But it was too late now.

Kerri had finally decided to try to make it up to Frankie for not letting him attend a gig by taking him to the grocery store. She had also given Frankie permission to quietly talk in the store-just not when anyone was close enough to hear.

Frankie was beside himself with excitement. He'd gotten to ride in the Monkeemobile, which had been pure adventure for him, and now he was in a place that astonished him the moment he stepped inside the store. All that food! All those displays! All those cash registers! Of course, he didn't eat, and would sit at the table and watch the others when they ate just to keep them company, but just the sight of all those brightly colored packages and cans had him transfixed.

"You must be joking!" he said quietly, eyes wide, head swiveling back and forth, trying to take it all in. Peter giggled.

Kerri had to keep reminding herself that Frankie had never seen anything like this before. Something that was so common and every-day, even boring, to her, was like a fantasy land to Frankie.

People stared at them, and of course they were used to that from when they took Frankie onto the beach. They had come up with a story to keep people away. That it was an experimental robot, and that the experiment would not be effective if other people were too near. So for starters, they were constantly having to tell people to stay back.

Right off the bat, Frankie knocked over a huge display of crackers, and it took Kerri and Peter forever to pick all the boxes up and erect the stand the way it had been.

The thing that caught Frankie's eye once they were in the first aisle was the bread. So much of it! So many kinds! He observed Kerri squeezing it gently to see how fresh it was. So, thinking that was the thing to do, he did the same-only he didn't do it gently.

"Oh my God! He's squishing all the bread!" Peter ran after Frankie. It had happened so fast. They had taken their eyes off Frankie for all of 30 seconds, and he had smushed about a dozen loaves of bread.

"What do we do?" Peter gave Kerri one of his helpless, pleading looks.

"I don't know! Just keep shopping for now... maybe no one noticed." Kerri carried on, something telling her things were not going to improve. She was more right that she could have imagined.

The cereal aisle was brutal. Frankie pulled an extra large box off the shelf before either of them could stop him, opened it and dumped the entire box on the floor. There was a pile of cereal about eight inches high.

"Frankie! Why did you do that?" Kerri's voice was becoming shrill.

"Looking for the prize!" said Frankie, glaring at her as if she had no brains at all. Oh... if only Peter had not taught Frankie about prizes in cereal boxes!

While Kerri and Peter desperately tried to scoop up as much of the cereal as they could, Frankie disappeared as silently as a ghost. He was back in no time, carrying a gallon of milk, which he took the cap off of, and dumped all over the top of the cereal.

Kerri and Peter gasped as the milk splashed onto them and made a huge puddle about 5 feet long in the aisle—and then kept going like a river.

"Frankie!" they both yelled in horror.

"Peter likes milk on his cereal!" Frankie was just trying to be helpful. Soon afterward they heard a voice over the loud speaker announcing, "Clean up, aisle two, cereal and milk."

"Let's just get the bare minimum of what we need and get the heck out of here," Kerri was getting seriously stressed out. They headed toward produce, Frankie picking up a box of Ding Dongs along the way, unwrapping the foil, then squashing them until they oozed through his claw fingers. "They're like mud patties!" he said excitedly. Kerri pried the box out of his hands and tried to get the melting chocolate off him with tissues she had in her purse, but really to no avail. Frankie was still extremely sticky.

Once in produce, all hell broke loose. Frankie was delighted with all the fruits and vegetables. Kerri tried hard, she really did. She made sure he stayed right beside her, but he reached over as she was picking oranges, and squashed an orange, spraying juice into her and Peter's face. Now _they _were all sticky too.

"Frankie, you can't _squeeze_ everything!" By now, even fun loving Peter was becoming distressed.

Next Frankie grabbed a few onions and began rolling them across the floor, laughing as they hit other shopping carts and people's feet. Peter retrieved the onions and grabbed Frankie to drag him back to follow Kerri.

Kerri tried to grab some lettuce quickly, getting out of the store as soon as possible the only thing on her mind when Frankie grabbed a head of lettuce and began peeling the leaves off, one by one, and spreading them all over the produce section floor.

Pretty soon the voice on the loud speaker announced a clean up was necessary in the produce section. This was _really_ getting embarrassing.

Kerri rushed them on their way to checkout with a sigh of relief that they'd soon be out of there when she remembered she needed olive oil and left Frankie with Peter briefly until she could run and get it and get back in line. Peter was looking at the candy and gum, and momentarily forgot Frankie was with him. That was all it took. Frankie grabbed the opportunity and ran with it.

Next thing Kerri knew, while selecting the olive oil she needed, there was a loud crash directly behind her. She was afraid to look-fearing the worst. She turned around oh-so-slowly. Yep, it was Frankie, just as she had feared, and he'd dropped a large bottle of olive oil on the floor. A very thick layer of olive oil coated the floor for many feet. Frankie tried to come to her to tell her what had happened and ended up slipping in it and falling right into the middle of the oil. Kerri looked in dismay at the shiny oil that he was completely coated in.

Peter came running around the corner, realizing Frankie had gotten away from him. Of course, he didn't see the oil in time, and he, too, slipped and fell in it, sliding at least ten feet. If it hadn't been so disastrous Kerri would have been laughing her guts out.

"Clean up, aisle eight, olive oil. A _lot_ of it," came the voice over the speaker again.

By the time they got through checkout, Kerri had a splitting headache, and Frankie and Peter, covered in oil were very quiet. Frankie because he knew he'd done _something _wrong, although he wasn't sure exactly what it was, and Peter because he was feeling very contrite about not watching Frankie more closely.

"Mike's gonna _kill_ us," Kerri was practically sobbing by the time they got to the Monkeemobile. "All the oil that's going to be on the seats!"

"So will Davy if he gets any on his clothes!"

"Peter, that was unnecessary. Things are bad enough as it is."

"There's no way we're going to get away with any of it either. You and I have milk and orange juice all over us, you have olive oil on you, and Frankie has milk, chocolate, orange juice and oil all over him!" wailed Kerri, clearly at the end of her rope.

When they got back to the Pad, Micky was the only one home, and he even helped them carry in the bags of groceries and clean the seats in the Monkeemobile. They'd had a towel in the car, so Frankie had sat on it on the way home. As a result, hardly any residue came off on the seats.

Kerri would, however, never forget the look on Micky's face when they'd walked in. "Man, what happened to you guys? He said with a gaping mouth. "Looks almost like you were in a pie throwing contest! "And Frankie's all greasy-yuck!" he added.

"Whew, that was a close one," said Peter after they had showered and cleaned Frankie up.

"Yeah, and from now on, Frankie will have to stick to the beach!" Kerri was just glad Mike hadn't been home when they had walked in the door. As it turned out, Mike and Davy never found out about the grocery store incident. Some things are better left unsaid.

"What do you say, Shotgun" Frankie was trying to get Mike to take him out onto the beach. Mike took Frankie's hand and off they went. Kerri smiled to herself as she watched them out the window. Mike was so tall he had to bend a bit at the knees while leading Frankie out onto the sand. Not only that, but he had to take tiny steps so Frankie could keep up with him.

Frankie was getting more and more bold about the water. He loved watching the boys surfing with a board, and Kerri knew he secretly wished he could do it too. Frankie began getting just his feet in the water at first. He stayed well back from the white water at first, but over time he gained courage, and this worried Kerri. Frankie began wading deeper and deeper into the water. Kerri tried to make sure she was with him when he did this, but it wasn't easy to keep him by her side. Frankie might have been slow, but he was insidious about slipping away.

Before long, Davy was teaching Frankie to catch waves on a raft. Davy kept Frankie in fairly shallow water and never let him take the raft out by himself. Frankie knew he wasn't to venture out without someone with him, but the day came when he decided to catch a few small waves on his own, got a little too confident, and the current carried him out farther than he would have normally gone.

Kerri looked up from her book on the shore, expecting to see Frankie at the water's edge. When she couldn't locate him or his raft, she ran along the beach, searching for him. Then she saw him—way out there on the raft where the biggest waves were, trying to get back to shore, but his pointed claw hands didn't do a very good job of paddling. In fact, he was only going further out, and a huge wave was fast approaching.

Kerri knew there was no way she could get to him in time before that wave hit him. Time seemed to stand still as the wave came closer and closer. Davy was way out there too, but at least 50 yards away from Frankie. Micky was coming in on a wave on his surfboard and Peter and Mike were further down the beach, nowhere near close enough to hear Kerri's frantic calls.

Just then, the wave hit Frankie, who had been furiously paddling in the direction of the shore. His shiny plastic body looked so small and vulnerable on that raft, and Kerri was helpless to do anything but watch as the wave smacked him hard. The raft went flying into the air, and Frankie disappeared below the surface of the water.

Kerri hit the water running, then swimming as fast as she could. She was a good swimmer, but not as good as Davy, who had spotted Frankie's wayward raft, without a passenger, and was already swimming strongly in the general direction he thought Frankie might be.

"Davy!" yelled Kerri at the top of her lungs. "Davy! He fell off the raft over there!" she pointed to the area where she'd witnessed the most awful thing she'd seen in some time.

"Oh God, no!" she cried softly to herself as she continued to swim as fast as she could. There was no sign of Frankie. She kept looking for his shiny plastic head, or limbs, or anything. But there was nothing…

Davy got there quicker than Kerri thought possible. Still, it had been at least 3 minutes since the wave had hit Frankie. Kerri pointed frantically at the area, and Davy dove down several times, only to come up empty handed each time, his face a study in near despair.

Kerri finally made it out to where Davy was. Davy was not going to give up. He was seriously out of breath and clearly tiring, but he kept diving. Finally, on the seventh or eighth dive—Kerri had lost count—Davy came up, clutching a limp plastic arm. Kerri, who had grabbed the raft on the swim out, brought it over to Davy, and Davy lifted Frankie up onto it.

"Frankie! Frankie! Are you alright?" she cried in desperation. Frankie just laid there on the raft, looking much like he had when he'd fallen down the stairs all those months ago. Stunned. Then he shook his head, looked at Kerri and Davy and casually said,

"I'm alright. I don't breathe. I'm a robot, remember?"

Kerri was so relieved that she grabbed Frankie in a stranglehold. Of course! She thought of him as a human, and the thought that he couldn't possibly drown hadn't even entered her mind. Davy started laughing hysterically, his way of coping with the relief that was very plain on his features.

"Took David long enough to find me though," continued Frankie. "Wow, I went head over heels lots of times!"

"We could have lost you—you could have drifted out to sea! Even if you don't have to worry about drowning, we still might never have seen you again!" Kerri was in tears.

After that, they bought Frankie his very own life jacket and tube so he'd have double the security if that were to ever happen again. They all reflected on how life would have been had they lost Frankie that day. Not one of them could bear to dwell on it.

One night soon after the near-disaster, Frankie was sitting on the couch snuggled up with Kerri, Davy and Peter.

"Know what guys?" he said. "I love you."

Kerri's eyes overflowed with tears. Even the guys' eyes were sparkling a bit too bright.

Yep, Frankie was here to stay. Of course, had there ever been a doubt?


End file.
